The Chair
by PQFan
Summary: Inspired by a photo of Rupert Friend sitting in a chair, legs spread, eyes focused at the camera, face void of emotion. But there's something in the way he stares at the camera that is incredibly hot. This story picks up with Carrie and Quinn having already established a romantic and physical relationship. CAUTION: Sexually explicit!


They had planned to meet in her office at 7:00p then grab some dinner, but she was late. Again.

Quinn - tired, hungry, and irritable - stares out the window into the busy Istanbul streets. It was unusually hot for August and though there was a slight breeze hitting his face, beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. And having waited now for 45 minutes, he was pissed. Pissed at Carrie for being late, pissed at himself for waiting. Quinn turns from the window and angrily sits on the metal folding chair in the corner of the room. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with his arm then slouches forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

Suddenly the door opens and Carrie hurries in full of apologies.

"I know, I know...I'm sorry. The fucking…"

Quinn barely moves and hardly listens but watches her rant, her frantic energy swirling through the room like a tornado. He stares at her with a look of irritation. Sometimes he just wanted her to shut the fuck up.

Carrie continues her tirade as she moves behind her desk.

"I need five minutes," she tells him without looking up.

Quinn, still silent, slowly sits upright in the chair, his legs spread open and arms crossed over his chest. He watches her now standing behind her desk riffling through papers. Her brow furrows and she bites her lower lip in concentration. Her hair falls from behind her ear and grazes her cheek. A bead of sweat slowly runs down her clavicle towards her breasts, but she's too focused to care. Quinn breathes deeply, now slightly turned on by the intricacies of her body.

"You're late," he says in a low, rough voice.

Carrie looks up, somewhat startled, like she forgot he was even there. He continues to stare at her silently, trying his best not to lose his shit. He was so fucking hot and irritable, and Christ, did she even care? She looks at him and can now see the anger and tension in his face.

"I know…I'm sorry," she says quietly, cautiously stepping out from behind the desk and closer to him. She stops directly in front of him, feeling guilty for being so absorbed in her own shit.

"You're angry."

He says nothing but just stares at her. Carrie turns towards her desk and throws the papers she was holding on it, then turns back to Quinn. She is careful to touch him when he's like this, wary that his mood is dark and could turn darker, so she waits for him to say something.

Quinn remains silent, but reaches out and takes hold of her small waist with one hand, and slowly draws her closer so she now stands between his open legs.

"I'm sorry," she says looking down at him.

But he does not look up at her. He doesn't want to hear her apologies right now. Instead, he focuses in on her body, gently lifting her blouse to expose her midriff. He slowly caresses it with his thumbs.

Quinn pulls her closer, his hands now grasping her ass, and brings his mouth to her stomach. His teeth graze the skin around her navel while his hands massage her rear. His touch is rougher than usual, but she doesn't mind. On nights like this, she wants to give herself to him, fulfill his every want and need. Anything to draw the darkness from him.

He breathes in deeply and brings her closer, his mouth pulling at her. She draws her fingers through his hair, then pulls them away to lift her blouse over her head and remove her bra. She drops them to the floor, then brings her hands back to Quinn's hair. She tilts his head up towards her so she can look at him.

Now staring up at Carrie, Quinn sneaks his hands up her skirt and cups her ass. His brazenness somewhat surprises her but she likes where he's going. His eyes are fixed on hers and he watches her as he pushes her panties down just enough to allow him access, then slowly slips a finger inside her. Carrie moans, her mouth open and eyes closed. He likes that he can get her so wet with hardly even touching her.

Quinn continues to watch her as he draws his fingers in and out of her, until he can start to feel her muscles tighten around him. Carrie is so far gone already that she gasps out loud when he pulls his hand from between her legs. When she glances down at him, she sees pure hunger in his eyes. She brings herself to her knees, unzips Quinn's pants, and pulls out his already hard erection. She lowers her mouth down on him, taking in every possible inch, then slowly draws her mouth up again, her lips pulling on his thickness. Quinn grasps Carrie's hair in his hands and watches her, savoring her performance, then closes his eyes and lets his head fall back in ecstasy. She continues to pleasure him until she feels his body shift and his hands gently lift her head. Helping her to her feet, Quinn then guides her back up against the wall. His mouth finds her's and begins kissing her passionately, as if his life depended on it.

Carrie pushes her panties down to the ground then brings one of her legs up around Quinn's waist. With one hand braced against the wall above her head, Quinn slowly pushes his hard cock into her. She lets out a slight cry but pulls him in closer, looking for more. At first Quinn fucks her slowly, but as she grabs hold of his ass, his pace quickens until they're both panting rapidly. He finally lifts Carrie from the ground, wraps both her legs around his waist, and pushing her up against the wall, brings them both to orgasm violently.

As their breathing slows, Quinn gently lowers Carrie's legs to the ground, then lightly touches her face. He draws her in closer to kiss her.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he whispers with concern.

Carrie, still catching her breath, brings her arms up around Quinn's neck.

"No…" she laughs. "Did I hurt you?"

"Never."


End file.
